Everything has feelings, you know.

Things I currently feel sorry for: that Barbie over there on the floor, the chair at the far end of the kitchen table, the entire basement, my t-shirts at the bottom of the drawer, the half of a cinnamon bun on the counter, all the books I own but failed to read before I bought a new one, my dining room.

The Barbie was just thrown there, without thought for her position.  She’s face down and her arm is wretched over to the side, awkwardly.  It looks like it would hurt terribly.

And the chair is the one that never gets sat on.  We all have assigned seating (thanks to cruise director, Eirinn) and that chair was left out of the plan.  It rarely feels the warmth of a butt.

My whole basement only ever gets used to throw junk in and to do the laundry.  It’s barren and neglected.  Concrete walls and exposed ducts don’t make for a very cozy room.

My t-shirts that have the misfortune of living at the bottom of my drawer have been forgotten.  When searching for a top, I grab what’s easiest accessed, and that, unfortunately is not those on the bottom.

The cinnamon bun has been halved.  Too small for a grown up and the little ones have no interest in food that has been portion controlled.  They’d much rather take a full sized bun and waste half.  Which is exactly what happened.

The books I’ve bought but neglected to read before replacing them with newer books must feel like the older kids at the orphanage.  Am I ever going to read them?  Probably.  Eventually.  Yes.  But until then, they must wait on the shelf, wondering.

My dining room is pretty.  So pretty.  Decorated with care and thought.  AND THEN ABANDONED WITHOUT REGARD.  It currently is being used to hold Christmas gifts that haven’t been assigned a home as of yet.  Rarely is there any dining in that room.

All of these things make me sad.

See what just happened there?  With the crazy?  Yeah, that’s what happens in my head.  I feel sorry for things that are just things and then it makes me sad because I just called the things “just things”. 

And, my lawdy, people, the turmoil that the Toy Story series has put me through.  SEE?  I TOLD YOU THINGS HAD FEELINGS.  We got the girls Jesse The Cowgirl and Woody for Christmas.  The replica type toys that look exactly like those in the movies and because of this SICKNESS I have, I have not-so-subtly been encouraging the kids to adopt them as their new favourite toys.  I’ve convinced Eirinn that she wants to sleep with Jesse at night.  I’m terribly protective of the way they treat the dolls, too.  I panic and yell “DON’T HOLD THEM BY THE STRING!” just in case they break.  Jesse and Woody would be sad if their strings broke.

But do you know what’s the worst part about all of this nuttery?  The grossly abnormal amount of time I spend thinking about the toy box we have in our basement filled with the girls’ secondary toys.  The Forgotten Toys.  They don’t get played with anymore.  They just sit down there, in the dark, wondering if the girls still love them.  They probably hope that every time the basement door opens, it’s one of the kids coming down to play with them.  And then, when it’s not, they probably cry little toy tears.

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS INSIDE MY HEAD, PEOPLE.

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14 thoughts on “Everything has feelings, you know.

  1. I’m just glad I’ll have a friend when I get to the nuthouse. We went camping and took Woody along this past weekend. Low and behold his hat got misplaced and I flat REFUSED to vacate the campground without it. Thankfully it only took about 30 minutes to find. My husband was *this* close to leaving me there.

  2. I felt this way as a child. I think I got it from my mother who personified everything and played on my exceptionally tender feelings.

    And now I am a heartless bitch who would eat that cinnamon bun and not think a single thing about the pain I was causing it.

  3. *sigh*
    i so EXACTLY that feeling. it’s the way i feel for the cute little counter and matching stools we have in our kitchen that were put there so we’d eat there. like humans. instead we mindlessly shovel food into our hunchbacked bellies while sitting in the living room eating dinner. off the coffee table.
    oh and the BOOKS! those poor neglected books in the shelf. yeah, i’ve got a few…

  4. I now have serious guilt over my old toys. I have no idea what happened to most of them. rotting away in my mother’s house probably. I do have a few faves still, tucked up in my closet.

    but here’s proof you’re right. the other day, my cabbage patch, who has been sitting up in the closet since I moved here, leapt out of the closet. of her own accord. with no help from anyone or anything. yes, out toys are alive.

  5. Reminds me of the interview I saw of Will Farrell saying how he feels bad for his clothes so he always wears what is in the front of the closet (the next pants and the next shirt) and then moves them to the back of the line. Then everything gets equal wearing time and he doesn’t feel guilty.

    Love it- one goofball to another. Sue

  6. I’m the same way. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I read The Giving Tree and Velveteen Rabbit too many times when I was little.

    And like TwoBusy, I dragged my Christmas tree out the front door tonight and told it that it was the best Christmas tree we’d ever had, and that it served us well. I might have done the sign of the cross, too. I can’t be sure.

  7. Dear Lord. At least i married somebody who also still takes a teddy bear to bed. being crazy is okay as long as someone else is crazy with you.

  8. This past summer I was doing some yardwork and found one of the neighbor kid’s toys, a little alien from Toy Story actually, had been pressed face down into a pile of dog shit. While I’m not typically one to assign feelings to inanimate objects, I did feel a twinge of sadness for the little guy as I flung him — shit and all — over the fence and into the blackberry bushes.

  9. You know, the Japanese believe that when a thing has been around for a hundred years, it becomes sentient. Everything has a spirit, everything has a soul; it’s not nuttery, it’s respect. You are not alone. 😛

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